Sastun: My Apprenticeship with a Maya Healer

and Mal Vientos in Spanish. “They are especially feared because they could
make people physically ill with mysterious ailments for long periods of
time,” he said.
“Some people don’t believe in them anymore. Even when they’re sick
with them, they still don’t believe,” Panti continued. “I respect the Winds
because I know how powerful they can be. I’ve seen their mischief.”
He said one of the worst is the rain-drenched Wind of the Milpa, which
attacks farmers on the way home from the cornfields. “They’re hot, sweaty,
and tired, and the cold, wet wind blows on them. The next day they can’t
get out of bed, won’t eat, and have a high fever.”
Some Winds do not intend to do harm, but people must show respectful
caution anyway, he warned. “Avoid them whenever possible. Farmers
should carry dry clothes and get under a shelter when it rains in the milpa.”
We continued to talk over lunch. I asked him why the Tzibche plant was
so vital to Carla’s mixture. He had used it during my initiation Primicia to
protect us from being harmed by the powerful, spiritual forces that were
roused.
“It is the only Xiv that cures the Hot Wind of the Maya. It grows just
behind a tree near the peanut field on the way to the forest. Tomorrow I will
show you.”
I then asked if there were any other spiritual diseases I should learn
about. He looked at me as if I’d asked him how many shades of green there
were in the forest.
“The human spirit can be plagued by as many troubles as the body,” he
said. Infants were particularly susceptible. A child was not just cranky when
it refused to eat, was up all night, and cried often. He outlined three
illnesses the child might have: mal de ojo, susto, and viento de descuido.
Their symptoms are similar and they are distinguished only by the intensity
and rapidity of the pulse.
I knew of mal de ojo, or the evil eye. It had been brought to the New
World by the Spaniards, who probably picked it up from the Arabs. In my
childhood household, my Italian grandmother, Isola, had insisted I wear a
clove of garlic in my Catholic scapula to protect me from mal occhio, the
evil eye in Italian.
Susto was Spanish for fright. It can be caused by anything that might
scare a baby: an angry dog, the piercing sound of a jet engine overhead, or a
drunken father’s abuse of its mother.